


It's Just a Matter of Asking

by BlueColoredDreams



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Crack, Fluff, M/M, cosplay cafes, cross-dressing for fun, school cultural fairs, this is all just crack and fluff and idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-07 04:25:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3161159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueColoredDreams/pseuds/BlueColoredDreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tadashi's pretty certain that this is the textbook definition of hazing, but he can't help but be curious because they're all so adamantly convinced that he can convince one Tsukishima Kei to cross-dress at the school cultural fair just by asking. </p><p>And it's not like it could hurt to ask, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Just a Matter of Asking

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JessicaVIP (jdinis1006)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=JessicaVIP+%28jdinis1006%29).



> This is a fic for JessicaVIP/taehyungsfavoritenoona, because really the idea was kind of hilariously brilliant. Thanks for writing novels worth of headcanons and different theories and listening to me ramble endlessly about that one tsukkiyama domestic fic from fluff hell. (｡・//ε//・｡) *dives under a table*

It’s not as if it’s the first time that Tsukki’s gotten up and just walked out of an informal team meeting, Tadashi thinks, so he doesn’t quite understand why everyone looks oh so affronted as the door to the clubroom slams behind the blond.

He definitely doesn’t understand why all eyes turn on him in the resulting silence like they’re expecting  _him_ to do something about the fact that they’re surprised that one Tsukishima Kei just said ‘ _no way in hell_ ’ to the volleyball club’s—apparently annual—cosplay café fundraiser for the school’s cultural fair.

They all start in on him at once, flying in just like the crows they’re named for:

“It’s a  _tradition_ ,” Tanaka says seriously as he crosses his arms and nods sagely, as if he had the last word in everything. In his mind, Tadashi finds himself thinking, he probably does.

“That may be, but we really can’t  _force_  anyone to do it,” Suga reminds him carefully. 

“But  _you_  did it, and so did the rest of us,” Noya pipes up. “There are pictures to prove it!”

“Oh, I want to see!” Hinata cries, scrambling over the bench towards Noya.

Tadashi pulls his knees a bit closer to his chin, blinking slowly at his teammates. “But… he doesn’t  _want_  to do it,” he murmurs. “I mean, I don’t think Tsukki’ll change his mind?”

“Sure he will,” Noya says flippantly, looking up from where he was scrolling through his phone for the aforementioned pictures.

“No,” Tadashi says slowly, frowning in confusion. “He  _just_  said he wouldn’t…?”

“Yeah, but that’s when  _we_  asked,” Noya continues with a shrug. “He’ll do it if  _you_ ask.”

Tadashi swallows hard, the leering grin that Noya’s shooting him makes his skin crawl with nervousness and want to shrink into the material of his warm-up jacket. They’re giving him far too much credit here. It’s not like he can make Tsukki do whatever he wants just by asking,  _nope_.

Sometimes, yeah,  _okay,_ he’ll ask his friend for favors and Tsukki  _will_ do them, but they’re things that Tadashi’s pretty sure Tsukki would do anyway, like walk a little bit slower or show him what song they’re listening to or stop for food after practice. “That’s not true,” he says with a shaky laugh, waving his hand dismissively.

Hinata looks up at Tadashi from where he’d been peering over Noya’s shoulder, his face slowly alighting into an expression of mischievous understanding. “No, it totally is,” he says excitedly, starting to bounce on the balls of his feet. “You got Stingy-shima to tutor me and Kageyama, remember!”

“He’d have done it anyway,” Tadashi retorts with a shrug. He’s not really sure if that’s true, though. It takes effort to tutor people, especially people as… well, he feels a little bad to think this, but especially people as dense and ill-suited to studying as Hinata and Kageyama are. But Tsukki probably decided to do it on his own, just to shut Hinata and Kageyama up, or because he thought it would be more troublesome to not do it and deal with them completely failing, not because Tadashi had suggested that it was something feasible for Tsukki to do.

“No, he wouldn’t have,” Kageyama pipes up from where he’d been scowling at the floor for the past five minutes at the prospect of having to seriously participate in the school’s cultural fair. Tadashi blinks again, raising an eyebrow expectantly. “He only ever helped us out when you were around.”

Every eye in the clubroom tracks from Kageyama to Tadashi, who feels like he’s just stepped back onto the court during that match against Seijou in the Inter High all over again. He rubs his palms against his shorts nervously; he'd take serving for the first time again over this amount of scrutinous attention any day. “I’m sure that’s just a coincidence?”

“No,” Kageyama says again, shaking his head. “That jerk wouldn’t even answer simple questions unless you were there.”

“Oh and remember that day you ran late for practice, Yamaguchi? Tsukishima totally wouldn’t even take his headphones off until you came into the clubroom! We just sat there with our stuff for five minutes, trying to get him to pay attention,” Hinata adds while the upperclassmen all titter knowingly.

While they’re not necessarily all ganging up on him, it feels like the rest of the team is in on a joke that Tadashi is the punch line of. They’re all looking at him with expectancy and veiled amusement, and in Sugawara’s case, some weird mix of sympathy and understanding. “I didn’t notice that,” he says hesitantly, mouth dry.

“It’s  _legit_ ,” Hinata says, nodding like he’s just laid down the absolute truth of the universe. Everyone nods and shrugs.

“…So you guys are really saying that you think, for real, that if I ask Tsukki to do this thing, he’ll do it?” Tadashi asks slowly. His question is met with a chorus of ‘yeah’s and ‘of course’s. He really doesn’t believe them; there’s no way that he’s going to get Tsukki to do this. 

 _He_ barely wants to do it; there’s  _literally_  no actual way he’s going to be able to convince Tsukki to when  _he’s_  still waffling about it. He laughs nervously and scratches the back of his head, “I  ** _really_  **don’t know about this, guys.”

“No, for real, he’ll do it,” Hinata says. “You gotta do it; you’ve gotta ask. We’re a team!”

Tadashi sighs slowly though his nose. He doesn’t really think team mentality extends to apparently coercing people into participating in questionable club traditions (isn’t… isn’t that the definition of hazing?), but at the same time, he really doesn’t want to let them down. He’s also… a little bit curious.

Not that he’s curious as to what would happen if Tsukki were, to say… participate but… He kind of is. He’s starting to wonder if Tsukki really  _does_ do anything he asks him to do. Maybe Hinata’s certainty is just contagious, though; it isn’t like the team doesn’t already have a habit of hanging their expectations a little high… But,  _what if_   _they were right?_

What if Tsukki really had done all those things because he’d asked for them? The nights they went along with their teammates for after-practice snacks, trips to the McDonalds in town because he wanted fries… He doesn’t really want to be conceited at all, but he guesses he could tentatively consider railing on the blond until he snapped out of his stupid funk a persuasive win. _That_ is at least something he’s sure Tsukki wouldn’t have done on his own.

But that’s still… no one really knows about that, so it’s not like they could base their “Yamaguchi can make Tsukki do anything” beliefs on that.  So yeah, he isn’t buying it. Not really. 

“I guess it won’t hurt to try?” he says uncertainly. “But I really, really, wouldn’t get your hopes up.”

The resulting cheer is almost enough to make him wince. Daichi claps his hands a few times to get everyone to be quiet and start packing up. Tadashi stands and starts changing as Sugawara promises to hand out more details about where and when their club event will be taking place, and more information about what they’ll be doing come tomorrow. He reminds everyone that the costume choice will be random and drawn from a bag of pre-printed slips.

He shoves his uniform into his bag and zips it up. “I’m going to go catch up with Tsukki,” he says, waving to everyone. Hinata bounds up to him and claps him hard on the shoulder.

“Good luck! You can do it, I promise,” he says. “You have like—it’s like magic,” he continues excitedly, wiggling his fingers in the air, “You just ask and, ‘ _fuaaaahh_!’: he does what you want!  _Magic_!”

Tadashi nods uncertainly, chewing on the inside of his lip. Sometimes he’s not really sure what goes on in Hinata’s head, but he looks entirely convinced of… whatever it is he’s going on about. He supposes that if you really wanted to be objective, the fact that he’s friends with Tsukki could be considered magic…? No, no, he really just can’t make sense of what Hinata’s going on about. He’s not going to try. It's already bad enough he's gotten roped into a game of “Let's convince the stubbornest person on the planet to magically change his mind” because of Hinata and his contagious convictions. 

He slips out of the clubroom and trots down the stairs and out to the school gate, where, unfailingly, Tsukki is waiting for him. Of course, Tadashi knows that if someone were to  _ask_ Tsukki if he was waiting for Tadashi, he wouldn’t be. He snickers to himself.

Tsukki’s leaning up against the school gate, headphones on and phone out, thumb sliding idly across the screen, the picture of ever-cool, nonchalant grace. It’s rather ruined by the fact that Tadashi knows Tsukki’s playing Candy Crush on his phone, because the blond always hits him up for extra lives. Tsukishima Kei, cool, apathetic, and  _horrible_ at tile games.

But their teammates don’t have to know any of this; he doesn’t particularly want them to know any of this. He’s pleased with the fact that it’s something that he alone knows. He jogs up to Tsukki, halting close enough to his friend that Tadashi can hear the bass line of the song the blond is listening to as Tsukki pulls his headphones down.

“What took you?”

“Ah, sorry! Suga-senpai was talking about the details and there was a bit of excitement involved,” Tadashi chuckles as he runs a hand through his hair.

Tsukki purses his lips and sighs, pushing off of the gate to stand straight; “Of course there was.” He tucks his phone into his pocket, pausing his music with a flick of his thumb. He starts walking.

Tadashi falls into step beside him, enjoying the quiet and the cool evening air. “So,” he says after a long moment, “What do you think about the club’s plans for the fair?”

Tsukki shoots him a look out of the corner of his eye, mouth set into a hard line of indifference. “My thoughts are: absolutely  _not_ ,” he says.

“Will you think about it?” Tadashi inquires. “About participating?” He wonders if it has to be a direct question to work his so-called magic.

“I thought about it, and the answer is no. I can try thinking about it again—here.” Tsukki pauses and holds up a finger for a moment, then drops it suddenly. “Oh, look, the answer’s still  _no_.” 

Tadashi sighs and glances up at the sky. He purses his lips briefly as he thinks: well, he’d asked a direct question, and  _technically_  Tsukki had done what he’d asked. He’d also been a sarcastic little shit about it, but that was Tsukki.

He’s not sure if that really counted, though. He thinks back to the things that he’s asked Tsukki for before, and that Tsukki has done; they’re all things  _for_ Tadashi, where there’s some sort of benefit for him out of the favor. ... _Weird_.

He tries again:

“Oh, well,” Tadashi murmurs. “It’s just that, I think  _I’m_  going to do it. We never did anything like that in middle school and… I just thought it would be fun if we did it together with the rest of the team,” he says slowly, internally wincing at just how coercive he sounds. He hasn’t even gotten to asking Tsukki to do it and he already feels like a manipulative creep about the entire ordeal. He should stop. This is a horrible idea.

Tsukki is quiet for a long time, and just as Tadashi’s about to apologize, the blond speaks; “You… _you’re_  going to do it?” He stops on the sidewalk, arms crossed as he stares Tadashi down over the rim of his glasses.

Tadashi blinks and nods quickly; “Y-yeah. I mean, it’s a tradition,” he laughs. “And it sounds like it could be really fun.”

Tsukki sighs and glances away from Tadashi briefly. “And you’re saying to want me to do it too?” he asks, turning his gaze back to Tadashi. He does _not_ look pleased with the situation.

Tadashi scratches the back of his head nervously. Oh hell, he’s done it now. And it’s not like he can tell his friend he’s only asking because the rest of the team thinks he’s some persuasive powerhouse, and the fact that he kind of wonders what  _would_  happen if Tsukki were to participate.

Tsukki’s tall, so he’d look good in just about anything, and… well, Tadashi’s resigned himself to the fact that he’ll probably be in some ridiculous costume, since their outfits are going to be pulled from a hat, and he has  _horrible_ luck. But Tsukki has fairly decent luck, and really, he he’s not lying when he  says he thinks it could be fun. He also kind of really does want to participate in a cultural fair with Tsukki, with a large group of friends.

And it definitely has nothing to do with the fact that he wants to see his best friend in drag. No. Totally not. Tadashi clears his throat, pushing that indecent little thought aside. (But he’s a teenage boy with a raging crush on his best friend so of course that doesn’t work.) “Well… yeah?  _Would_  you do it?”

The line of Tsukki’s mouth tightens and Tadashi scrambles to continue; “It’s just that I thought it would be fun and I kind of don’t want to do it alone—I mean, I won’t be  _alone-_ alone but, it’s just that we, you and I, I mean and… Well! You don’t actually  _have_  to, I just—it’s just that… Sorry, Tsukki; you can forget I even asked—”

Tsukki sighs sharply and rolls his eyes; “Shut up, Yamaguchi,” he mutters, turning to walk away; “I’ll do the stupid cultural fair, just stop babbling.”

Tadashi blinks and opens his mouth once before closing it. He blinks again. Did… Did Tsukki just agree to do a cross-dressing café with the team? Did he just convince Tsukki to do it?

He… he thinks he did. By the time the realization kicks in, he has to sprint to catch up to Tsukki. “Wow, thanks, Tsukki!” he pants once he’s caught up. He tries really hard not to think about what the team said, that Tsukki would agree to anything he asked. That sort of thing was impossible; Tsukki probably just…

Actually, there’s no real way to talk himself out of the fact that Tsukki just agreed to do the cultural fair because he asked him to. Not just any cultural fair activity either, but  _dressing in drag_ (potentially),  **just** because he asked and pulled some bullshit ‘well we’ve never done this before’ card.  

He wonders if it’s true, that if he asked, Tsukki would do whatever he asked for. He wonders if he could ask Tsukki to share his English notes, or practice serve and block tactics with him, or if… if he asked for Tsukki to hold his hand as they walked home, would he?

And what would happen if Tsukki _did_? If he  _did_ ask, and Tsukki  _did_ hold his hand, what would it mean? Would it mean that he could ask for  _other_ things? Would it mean that Tsukki liked him a little more than as a friend? If he asked him out on an actual _date_ would Tsukki go?

He lets himself daydream about it until it’s time for he and Tsukki to part ways, stammering out a quick goodbye as Tsukki looks at him a little oddly. He’s not really sure what the look means, but Tadashi feels bad for pressuring his friend into participating in the fair, but there’s no backing out of it now, so he pushes the feeling aside.

If he knew what his friend was thinking, he probably wouldn’t feel that bad.

**—―—―**

Kei cannot actually believe he just agreed to do what he just agreed to do.

In fact, he really just can’t believe just how tightly Yamaguchi has him wrapped around his fingers, and is completely  _clueless_ about it. He doesn’t even think that Yamaguchi realizes he does this thing where, when he asks Kei for things, his eyes go all wide and soft and he leans forward, and his voice wavers like he’s scared, and there is absolutely  _no way_ to say no, even if he wants to. 

Yamaguchi has suckered him into so many things that way. And he doesn’t actually mind.  _That’s_  the thing: Kei actually wants to do the things that Yamaguchi asks him to do. (He’s always wanted to, until today. And even then, he only vaguely wanted to decline.) 

Not because he wants to do the things themselves—like  _hell_  he wanted to tutor the royal idiot and his hyperactive partner-in-stupidity—but he wants to do things for  _Yamaguchi_. He wants to spoil that boy  _rotten_. He wants to do so many things for Yamaguchi that the boy forgets how to do them himself.

He doubts he could ever do enough to actually accomplish that—he could probably spend the rest of his life indulging every passing desire Yamaguchi could ever have, and the brunet would still probably be as sweet and shy and sheepish as ever. But if Yamaguchi were to ask him for the moon in the sky, Kei would figure out how to get it for him. He’s got it  _that bad_ for the other boy.

It drives him nuts. In fact, he tries not to think about it, honestly, because it’s more trouble than it’s really worth to try and figure out why Yamaguchi’s never _actually_ noticed. He bends over backwards to spoil Yamaguchi, and his friend has never  _once_  noticed. He’s not sure if it’s because Yamaguchi is just denser than lead, if Yamaguchi just  _believes_  in his innate kindness _that much_ because, despite all that’s happened to him, Yamaguchi is a walking ball of love and sunshine himself, or if Yamaguchi  _has_ noticed, and that his lack of comment on it is his response to Kei’s ungodly huge crush on him: ‘sorry, but no’ and ‘maybe if I ignore this, it will go away’.

…Except that Yamaguchi’s gone out of his way to ask him to participate in the cultural fair with the team. He can actually  _see_  the gears turning in Yamaguchi’s eyes when he stammers out his request, and Kei wonders if Yamaguchi’s **_finally_** caught on. God he hopes so. It’s taken him long enough. 

He doesn’t _really_ want to do the fair, but when Yamaguchi starts mumbling about not wanting to be alone his heart twists and his resolve crumbles. He can’t  _not_  do it now, not after Yamaguchi’s pulled the ultimate ‘wow I am a shitty friend if I say no’ card without really knowing that he’s done it,  _and_  he’s making that kicked-puppy face he makes sometimes, the one that makes Kei’s chest seize up and causes his heart to climb up into the back of his throat. Kei agrees to it before Yamaguchi starts _acting_ like a kicked puppy on top of it all.

The idea that Yamaguchi is participating in the fair is only a secondary motivation.

That doesn’t mean it’s not a strong motivation, because _oh no_ , he’s now entirely consumed by the idea of Yamaguchi in whatever dumb café set-up their idiot team can put together; the thought of him in costume, a costume that will probably involve a _skirt_. He hopes it’s something that accentuates the things he likes the most about Yamaguchi: the slope of his shoulders and the thin curve of his wrists; his waist and hips and the muscles of his thighs; the way his face scrunches up when he smiles. The things that only he has ever bothered to notice.

(He’s perfectly content with the knowledge that most everyone thinks that Yamaguchi is just average looking and generally forgettable; that just means he doesn’t have to share. He’ll get to ogle all he wants and not have to worry about some pack of feral girls trying to move in on his friend.)

He doesn’t actually think that his luck would be so absolutely shitty that, when the cultural fair actually rolls around, that he won’t actually get to see these things. Maybe it’s karma for secretly fantasizing about Yamaguchi in a dress or for being a total ass to everyone but Yamaguchi, but Kei is distinctly  _not amused_  by the situation. It didn’t really strike him how displeased he would be when he pulled “maid” out of the hat to a chorus of roaring laughter in the clubroom a week ago. But staring the costume down like this, oh no, he is  ** _not_** happy.

He crosses his arms tightly across his chest, face screwed up into a scowl. “No. I changed my mind.  _No_.”

He’s still allowed to change his mind, even though it’s the day of the fair, he’s standing in just his sweatpants, costume in front of him while the rest of the team sets up and starts to serve the first customers of the day, already dressed up in their own ridiculous and flouncy costumes. He is totally still allowed to just walk away from this.

Except that he’s not, because Yamaguchi’s hovering behind him in the changing area. Probably to make sure he doesn’t bolt or something. He’s willing to blow past Yamaguchi, sort of. Okay, so not really. But he’s still not doing this.

“Oh, it’s… well it’s not  _that_  bad, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi says faintly. He eyes the costume critically, like maybe it is that bad. Because it  _is._

Kei turns to his friend and glares. “Says you.”

Yamaguchi squirms a bit in his own costume, some sort of waiter or butler outfit. It doesn’t matter what it is, it’s  _pants_ and the world is distinctly not fair because Yamaguchi’s wearing pants while Kei has to wear… some… lace-edged, taffeta-petticoatted nightmare in satin. Though it might  _actually_  be fair, Kei thinks, because whatever Yachi’s done to Yamaguchi’s hair is very attractive and _kind of maybe_ makes up for the horrible costume in front of him:

She’s managed to pull most of it back off of Yamaguchi’s face into a small ponytail at the nape of his neck, and tame the worst of his cowlick down (there’s still a few stubborn pieces sticking up and it’s  _highly_ endearing). It brings the arc of his cheeks to focus so the first thing you see when you look at him isn’t his eternally messy hair, but rounded cheeks and his freckles and the curve of his eyes.

And his outfit isn’t bad, either: he’s in a vest that trims in at the waist and slacks that aren’t loose at all, but not too tight, and the white button-up is rolled up and clipped up at his elbows, and he’s currently wearing his bow tie undone around his neck. It’s all very classy, and Yamaguchi is probably the  _only_  member of the team that’s wearing anything that looks normal (okay, so they had to put Azumane in a similar costume, mostly because anything else would kill him and Nishinoya wanted him to dress up like Jesus for some unfathomably  ** _stupid_**  reason. Sawamura had put a stop on that very quickly and made some sort of executive decision about their glass giant’s costume).

It’s just…  _his_ costume that’s the problem.

“No,” he says again.

“Tsukki, it’s a bit too late to back out,” Yamaguchi says, shifting from foot to foot. “You could probably keep your sweatpants on if it really bothers you?”

“…Do you see how short this is?”

“Sorry, Tsukki.”

Kei pinches the bridge of his nose. He can hear the rest of the team shouting and bustling around on the other side of the canvas curtain that’s partitioning off the ‘official’ changing area for their little café, and it makes him just want to put the rest of his clothes back on and high tail it home. He hates cultural fairs, he hates crowds, and he  _especially_  hates short maid costumes. “I’m not degrading myself like this. They can kick me off the team, I don’t care.”

Yamaguchi actually has the gall to  _laugh_  at him, and Kei questions why he actually likes this idiot for about a millisecond before he glances over and sees him in his stupid butler costume and it’s like his heart goes ‘oh yeah, that’s why’. “Tsukki, don’t be a drama queen,” Yamaguchi snickers, reaching out to brush his fingers against Kei’s bare shoulder.

Kei grits his teeth and ignores the lingering touch. He’s not gonna do it. He’s not going to. There’s no way. Absolutely not. “I’m not going to put that on,” he says solidly.

And then Yamaguchi looks at him. Oh.  _Shit_.

No.  _Absolutely not_. He’s not going to budge. He’s not wearing the damn maid costume. It doesn’t matter that the rest of the team is going to look just as ridiculous; it’s a matter of pride here. Surely Yamaguchi understands that,  ** _right_**? Right.

Except that his friend is looking up at him with his lip between his teeth and cheeks pink, hand still against his shoulder, and Yamaguchi’s doing that thing where he starts blinking quickly and looking up through his lashes like he does when he’s about to ask a favor and god  _dammit_ he’s screwed. He’s just totally and completely screwed.

“I mean, I  _guess_  if you’re sure you don’t want to,” Yamaguchi murmurs, looking down at his shoes before peeking back up at Kei. “I know you don’t like this kind of stuff, I just… I thought it would be interesting. Kind of pushy of me, isn’t it? Sorry.”

Oh no no no. He’s not going to be swayed here. He’s not going to do it: it doesn’t matter how hard his heart is beating in his chest, but _oh_ _fuck_ he’s let down Yamaguchi  _again_ and he feels like shit when the freckled boy starts talking down about himself like Kei’s own stubbornness and personality deficiencies are his own fault. 

“But it’s kind of—we _-ell_ , I mean, we sort of would match,” Yamaguchi continues, pointing between the maid costume and his own outfit a bit helplessly. He laughs nervously and reaches back to tug on the little ponytail, “Ah, but sorry, Tsukki, since I kind of forced you to—”

Kei really can’t stand it anymore; he thought he had more self-respect and more willpower than this.

Oh, he’s not sure  _who_  he’s kidding anymore: he knows he’d probably get down on his knees and beg if Yamaguchi asked him to.  ** _Ugh_**. He reaches out and pushes his hand up against Yamaguchi’s mouth. He has got to get Yamaguchi to stop talking before he does anything even stupider than putting on a maid costume. “ _Ugh_ , just—shut up,” he growls. “ _You_ —I’ll do it for one hour.  **One**.”

Yamaguchi perks up like he’s a dog that’s been promised a walk, and it’s pathetic, really. The both of them, they’re pathetic: Yamaguchi for getting so excited and him for being happy that Yamaguchi is happy and for being willing to wear a damn skirt to make it so.

Yamaguchi reaches up and grabs his hand, pulling it down from against his mouth. He’s giving that crooked grin of his that makes Kei’s heart do really, _really_ stupid things and  ** _ugh_** he just wants to punch himself. He’s a sap. No, he’s worse than a sap: he’s whipped.

He’s just whipped, that’s all it is, and you know what, he enjoys it thank you very much.

“Thanks, Tsukki! I  _really_  owe you. I’ll make it up to you,  _promise,_ ” he breathes and Kei just gapes at him, because does Yamaguchi even  _realize_ what he’s doing? Surely he does. He has to.

**—―—―**

Tadashi  **does**  realize what he’s doing, actually.

Since asking Tsukki to participate in the cultural fair, he’s been littering the past few weeks with small questions and quiet favors—not too many that Tadashi thinks that Tsukki will notice, but just enough that he can see, with one-hundred percent certainty, that somehow, Hinata and the rest of the team had caught onto something that Tadashi had been too blind to see.

Tsukki would do nearly anything Tadashi asked him to.

And it’s  _terrifying_. It’s like stepping out onto the court to serve during a game. Absolutely terrifying, but also exhilarating and highly addictive. He wants to make it so he can keep doing it, over and over again. 

See, he started with small things following the night he’d gotten Tsukki to agree to do the cosplay café with the team. Borrowing pencils, erasers, notebooks, snacks; things he could pass off with a sheepish laugh and a small bow and teasing from Tsukki about his ‘forgetfulness’.

At first he felt bad about it, like he was taking advantage of their friendship to test some weird theory given to him by Hinata and Kageyama, of all people. But then he caught sight of the slight upward tilt of Tsukki’s lips out of the corner of his eye, and it hit him like a spike in the face—for some reason, Tsukki found enjoyment out of their exchanges.

So he got bolder. He asked for slightly larger things, like for Tsukki to accompany him to the vending machines to pick up juice during break, when he normally went alone; to go with him to the clubroom early before practice; to go play in the park on their way home one evening. He’s gotten Tsukki to go out to eat with him too when it’s way out of their way.

He’s also noticed that he has much more leeway with the blond’s personal space than he thought he did. Normally, he just taps his friend on the shoulder or the outside of his elbow. He’s not some space-hog like Hinata, who just barrels into people’s personal space; he always tries to be respectful. So one afternoon, when he accidentally grabbed Tsukki’s wrist when he was going to tap him on the elbow trying to get Tsukki’s attention to see if he can get the blond to help him practice aiming his serve, he apologizes like he normally does.

Except that Tsukki turned around and looked at him like he’s not exactly sure what Tadashi’s apologizing for, and barely even blinked when Tadashi stammers that he hadn’t meant to catch him like that. So Tadashi starts testing  _these_  boundaries too, because Tsukki’s wrist is a lot warmer and softer than he remembers it being from when they were kids and would hold hands while Tadashi cried, and he _really_ wants to feel it again.

He finds out that he can hold onto Tsukki’s elbow, brush the inside of his wrist, keep his hand on Tsukki’s shoulder longer than is really necessary, and walk so close that their knuckles brush and their bags bump against each other. And instead of moving or walking faster when their bags get in their way, Tsukki will move his bag to the other arm without a word.

He’s started to pay attention to these things and now that he has, he wonders just how blind he’s been. He wonders if maybe he’s projecting his own desires onto Tsukki, but if the look that the blond is giving him now—it’s almost  _desperate,_ like Tsukki is silently begging him give him permission to not participate—he doesn’t think he is. It makes his heart stammer and his face heat up, and he really wants to just stop this experimental thing he’s doing to see if he can really get Tsukki to do what he asks, and just lunge in and grab the blond’s hand and maybe, if he’s brave, kiss him.

But he kind of maybe _really_ wants to see Tsukki in that stupid maid costume. He wants to see the unruffled blond embarrassed and uncomfortable. He wants to see the flush that’s crawling across Tsukki’s face darken and stain his skin red and he wants to see him scowling and fidgeting and being an ass to everyone but Tadashi. He wants to make Tsukki take his order and scowl at him. 

He wants to ask him to do things that could potentially be even more embarrassing and uncomfortable.

“We’ll leave after one hour,” he promises Tsukki. He’s not really sure if they can do that, but it’s not the first time Tsukki will skive off club activities, and it won’t be the last. And for him to follow after Tsukki under the pretense of talking him back into club activities? Not unusual in the slightest. Not devious at all. Not one bit. 

Tsukki clenches his teeth and glares at the dress like it’s something radioactive. He sighs and uncrosses his arms and reaches for it, and Tadashi stops breathing as soon as it goes over his friend’s head and settles on his body.

It’s not like Tsukki is made for wearing drag—oh god, no he’s definitely  _not_. He looks just as awkward and out of place as Tanaka does in his fluffy, multi-layered princess dress and Kageyama in his weird fairy-princess get up complete with little cardboard-star wand and tiara filched from Hinata’s baby sister.

But the ruffled sleeves are short and all the lithe lines of the blond’s muscles on his arms and shoulders are plainly visible and god, it really  _is_ short. He thinks that Tsukki’s probably going to just pass out from embarrassment as he kicks off his sweatpants from  underneath the dress, it’s lace edging brushing against his thighs and  _holy crap_ —

It’s not like Tadashi hasn’t seen girls around the school wearing shorter skirts—the hemline is probably just a little bit shorter than their uniform shorts, to be honest. But it’s a  _skirt._ But it looks so short…Tsukki’s almost too tall for the hemline.

Tadashi wonders what exactly he’s gotten himself and Tsukki into. He feels like he’s doing something horribly wrong here. “Can I help with the zipper?”

“Do whatever,” Tsukki mutters darkly, turning his back to Tadashi.

Tadashi swallows hard and steps forward, tugging the material together at the back and doing up the hook and eye at the top of the dress, fingers brushing against the base of his friend’s neck. He seriously can’t breathe now.

It’s so weirdly intimate, especially since there’s a bright pink flush spreading down the back of Tsukki’s neck. Tadashi is absolutely certain that he’s going to go to hell for being an absolute sadist, because god, he likes this far too much. He’s relishing Tsukki’s embarrassment like it’s a cool breeze on a hot day of practice.  The knowledge that Tsukki hates every second of being in this dress, but is doing it anyway because Tadashi wants him to is dizzying, and it makes Tadashi feel confident and powerful, even though he thinks it really shouldn’t make him feel that way. ...It's better than a service ace, honestly. 

“Say, Tsukki,” he says carefully as he slides his hands down the blond’s back, feeling the slight tensing shudder that follows the drag of his fingers. “You don’t have to do this. Especially if you’re only doing it because I asked.”

He lets his hands rest at the small of Tsukki’s back. To hell with waiting an hour. He wants to do this now, because as much as he enjoys the squirming look of embarrassment on Tsukki’s face and the knowledge that Tsukki’s doing it because Tadashi specifically asked, he doesn’t think he can deal with the guilt he’s going to feel afterwards, once the excitement has faded. He doesn’t want to take advantage of this thing that he’s discovered without knowing if it’s something that Tsukki really wants.

He leans his cheek against the flat of Tsukki’s back, right between the blond’s shoulder blades. “See… ‘cause I know you’ll do stuff I ask you too now,” he mumbles, “I’ve been asking you for stuff a lot lately so I could see if you’d do them.”

Tadashi feels Tsukki’s back tense beneath his cheek; he continues speaking before the blond can cut him off. “…May I hug you?” he asks softly. There’s not an answer, but when Tadashi loosely wraps his arms around the blond’s waist, he can feel Tsukki’s breath hitch. He hopes it’s because Tsukki wants him to do it, and not because he’s upset. He  _thinks_  it’s because Tsukki wants it, at least.

He presses his palms against the satiny material of the costume and leans up onto his toes. He turns his head so that his mouth is flush to the very base of Tsukki’s neck, right over his spine. “Hey, Tsukki, you’ll let me say whatever, right?”

“...you normally do, even without my permission,” Tsukki answers, and it’s almost infuriating how calm his voice is. If it weren’t for the fact that Tadashi can feel the way Tsukki’s breathing has become erratic and how he’s leaning slightly back into Tadashi, Tadashi would think he isn’t affecting the blond at all. But he  _can_ feel these things, and it’s driving him slowly crazy. 

He wants to scrape his teeth into the skin, suck on it and kiss it and taste the salt of the blond’s sweat; he wants to ask Tsukki to do so many embarrassing, unspeakable things. He wants to boss him around, order him to do things—not just request them. He wants permission to do whatever he wants; he wants to give Tsukki the permission for him to do whatever  _he_ wants, too.

He wonders just how he’s managed to fall from being kind of embarrassed about the idea of asking to hold Tsukki’s hand to idly wanting to ask if it would be okay if he mapped out the entirety of his friend’s body with his mouth. It’s the knowledge of it, he thinks, that he could ask and Tsukki would say yes—it’s intoxicating and it’s  _dangerous_.  

“Is it true? Would you do anything I asked you to?”

**—―—―**

Kei swallows hard; it feels like the room is spinning around him. Yamaguchi’s hands are flat against his stomach, and his mouth’s pressed in a soft almost-kiss against his neck, and he’s so utterly and completely wrecked.

He was so wrong when he thought there was no way that Yamaguchi could be anything other than shy and innocent—the boy is already thoroughly rotten. It shouldn’t surprise him in the slightest that Yamaguchi has a mischievous streak like this: Yamaguchi’s been his friend for ages, and deviousness is something that rubs off on people. And this is, after all, the boy who’s learned how to serve directly at the net in order to fake out their opponents. It shouldn’t be surprising, but it  _is_. It throws him completely off kilter, and it’s taking all he has to keep up some measure of composure. 

“Yeah, pretty much,” he answers. He’s sure Yamaguchi already knew that, though, because he’s standing there in a maid outfit at Yamaguchi’s behest, and Yamaguchi’s asking for favors he wouldn’t ask if he just thought it was some passing thing.

“Then,” Yamaguchi hums, voice soft and thoughtful; “Could you turn around, please?”

He does it without a question. He wants to see what sort of expression Yamaguchi’s wearing; he wonders if it’s just as embarrassing as his own face surely is. Probably more. 

He’s not really expecting to see Yamaguchi giving him a sly smile, or the way his tongue darts out and licks his lips when their eyes meet. Rotten, he’s already spoiled the boy absolutely  _rotten_ , and he’s not even done anything bigger than passing favors for the brunet.

He can’t bring himself to hate it at all, though. Because really, this is what he’s wanted for a long time. He’s never quite wanted to take the first step away from friendship—it’s too much of a chance he’s not been willing to take—but if Yamaguchi makes it… well, that’s a different story.

Yamaguchi’s arms are still wrapped around his waist and he leans into Kei, still balanced on his toes so they're more level than usual, and pressed against him. There’s no explaining away this situation if one of their teammates were to come back to check on them, but there’s nothing that could make Kei actually care about that.

“I want you to kiss me,” he says quietly, looking up at Kei through his lashes with that self-satisfied smirk on his face. It’s not a question—nor is it even a  _suggestion_ ; it’s a demand and it’s one Kei has no problems with obeying.  

He leans forward and drops his chin, choosing to study Yamaguchi’s face for a few seconds before completing the command. The brunet finally has the sense to look shy, cheeks rosy and eyes fluttering nervously; he parts his lips just slightly, maybe to speak, or maybe just to breathe, but Kei takes it as a cue to close the remaining distance between them.

Yamaguchi’s fingers curl into fists on his back as he tips his head up against Kei’s lips. Kei lingers for a few more seconds before pulling back slightly. He braces his forehead against Yamaguchi’s, glasses sliding down his nose.

“Again,” Yamaguchi breathes, face now a brilliant shade of red that spreads to his ears. “Do it again.”

Kei reaches up and cups Yamaguchi’s face between his hands. “That’s not a question,” he sneers. It isn’t that he doesn’t want to, but he needs to regain something resembling composure here, some sort of control. “I’ll only do it if you ask me to.”

Yamaguchi whines and pouts, and it’s probably the cutest thing Kei has ever seen. But he sticks his ground, and only kisses him again when the request is rephrased is a question.  

He kisses Yamaguchi as soon as the question is asked, taking the chance given by Yamaguchi’s open mouth to slip his tongue past the brunet’s lips. He licks into Yamaguchi’s mouth, fingers tightening slightly against the shorter teen’s jaw as Yamaguchi slides his tongue against Kei’s.

Kei kisses Yamaguchi until his full weight is leaning into Kei, knees weak and he’s panting into Kei’s mouth. It kills him to stop, but he’s breathless too and feeling light headed, and there’ll be no living it down if one of their teammates stomps in on them. Now that the tension is broken between them, he doesn’t think that Yamaguchi could live through the embarrassment of being caught making out in a thrown-together changing room.

They pull away, and Kei slides his thumb against Yamaguchi’s lips, wiping away the excess saliva that had gathered at the corner of his mouth. “So,” he murmurs as he watches Yamaguchi’s eyes flutter shut. “Do I still have to wear this stupid dress?”

Yamaguchi squeaks and his eyes fly open. He shakes his head and starts stammering out apologies; Kei sighs and steps away, hands making quick work of hauling the dress over his head. “Thank god,” he mutters.

He pulls on his warm-up clothes while Yamaguchi hangs the satin and taffeta abomination back up. “If you knew, why’d you bother with this fair bullshit?”

“Oh, I—I _didn’t_ know,” Yamaguchi confesses, twisting his hands together. “Not until after I asked about doing the fair. That’s when I tried experimenting a little… And then I guessed, and kind of hoped that you… well, that you did it because you liked me. Not like me because we’re friends, but like-liked me and, well,  _yeah_.”

“Did you just say ‘like-like’? What is this, middle school?” Kei snorts as he zips up his jacket, enjoying the way Yamaguchi’s face flares up again and how he murmurs demure apologies like he doesn’t have a dominant bone in his body.

“Sorry,” Yamaguchi whispers, staring down at his shoes as he fidgets. “But it’s true, right? You like me?”

“Obviously,” Kei sighs. “Do up your bowtie.”

“Yes!”

Yamaguchi starts fussing with his bowtie obediently; it takes him a few times, but he manages to do it, even though it ends up crooked. Yachi will probably fix it later, but for now it’s good, Kei thinks. He pushes aside the canvas curtain for Yamaguchi, who slides out into the contained chaos that is the volleyball team’s café.

There’s already a bustle of very amused customers sitting around and sipping tea while eating the various food offerings. In the front, it looks like Kageyama’s threatening a group of snickering boys with his cardboard wand while a cat-eared Hinata is trying to drag him away. From the looks of it, Sugawara’s about to intervene, but the gaudy wings pinned onto his back are getting in the way and he has to continuously stop and apologize for knocking things off tables. Kageyama thwacks Hinata with his wand and they start screeching at each other.

It’s _ridiculous_. But Yamaguchi’s looking out at the chaos like it’s the best thing he’s ever seen and Kei can’t really bring himself to bitch about it too much. 

“I’m still only doing this for an hour,” Kei mutters darkly. Yamaguchi laughs loudly, drawing  attention from the nearest set of their teammates.

“Hey! Tsukishima! You’re not dressed up!” Tanaka cries, making a beeline for them with a scowl on his face and Noya by his side. “You’re supposed to be in costume!”

“I am,” Kei says dryly. “I’m dressed up like someone who cares.” He stuffs his hands into his pockets and wanders off to where Yachi and Shimizu are bustling around preparing orders as Yamaguchi’s snickers follow after him.

**—―—―**

“What a shame,” Noya sighs dramatically, adjusting the comically large lei around his neck. “We thought he’d do it, too. Those would have been some nice pictures for the records.”

Tadashi shrugs. “I  _did_  ask,” he says apologetically, “I guess I’m not as convincing as you guys thought I was.”

“You got him to participate, though, that’s something,” Tanaka says with a shrug. He claps Tadashi on the back, “So don’t get down about not getting him into costume.”

“Yeah, it’s amazing you got him to even show up!” Noya pipes up, joining in on the congratulatory back-thumping.

_If only they knew._

Tadashi grins to himself, quietly planning all the new things he could ask Tsukki to do with him now: He’s pretty sure he can get Tsukki to hold his hand on the walk home; he could probably get more kisses too. There’s probably nothing that’s off-limits, considering that the blond was willing to wear a dress to make Tadashi happy. Yes, he’s definitely going to make use of this.

It’s for best that the team never catches on any more than they already had, he thinks slyly.


End file.
